


No Regrets

by scarletmanuka



Series: A Matter of Love [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Ending, Blatant fantasy fullfilment, For a Friend, M/M, Multi, Not Matter of Love canon, Prompt Fill, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual exploration, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 12:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: An alternate ending to Mummy's 60th birthday party, written as a Christmas present for fans of the series and of Mark.





	No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGlinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/gifts).



> This is an alertnate ending and is NOT canon in the Matter of Love series. It is a blatant fullfilment of a fantasy that many of my readers had and requested I fill. If you had issues with this even being implied in the series, then I respectfully ask that you do not read. I get that not everyone will be into this and that's fine but I don't want to have to defend my decision to write this in a comment war. 
> 
> Also, watch out for the Vesuvius Club reference if you're a hardcore Mark Gatiss fan ;-)

Mark stood at the edge of the marquee, looking at into the darkness, alert for any sign of trouble. Other than the incident with the brother’s great aunt, Mrs Homes’ 60th birthday party had gone very smoothly (security wise - Rosie’s little slip up, whilst terrifying, didn’t actually count in regards to the mission). He smiled at one of Mrs Holmes’ friends who passed by on the way to having a cigarette, and leaned a little more casually against the frame, making it appear to anyone observing that he was just enjoying the cool night air and in no way, shape, or form was he keeping a look out for a deranged ex-spy who was hell bent on getting his revenge on Mycroft. Nope, nothing to see here, move along. Completely normal civilian business, nothing secret or servicey about it whatsoever.

He turned as he heard someone coming towards him and smiled as he saw it was his boss. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile.

Mycroft was holding two glasses of scotch and as he settled companionably next to the young agent, he offered up one of the beverages. When Mark hesitated to take it, the diplomat said, “I’ve left Talbot in charge for the night. You can’t work twenty four hours a day, and you deserve to relax a little. Have a drink with us. Sherlock will be out soon.”

Talbot was extremely competent and experienced so Mark nodded, happy that matters would be looked after if he allowed his guard to drop. Of course, he’d never be able to ‘switch off’ completely, but it would be nice to have a drink or two and enjoy the company of his two closest friends.

A ‘drink or two’ turned into “How did we manage to drink an entire bottle of scotch, Mycroft?”

“Um...I have no idea,” the diplomat admitted, his head lolling to one side as he peered at Mark.

Sherlock was slumped in a chair next to his brother, the rest of the guests having left long ago and everyone else already in bed. The genius rummaged around on the ground next to him and pulled up an empty bottle and set it on the table next to the other. “I think it was two bottles,” he slurred as he peered at the evidence before him.

Mark dropped his face into his hands and groaned. “Oh, God, I’m going to regret this tomorrow.”

Mycroft reached up and rubbed soothing circles on his back almost absently. “Mummy will likely cook yet another full breakfast so that should make it a little better.”

“Yes, so instead of just dying of a horrible hangover, your arteries can slowly close over as well,” Sherlock quipped.

“Sher?”

“Yes, Mark?”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” The agent glanced up and saw Mycroft smirking. “I hate you too,” he told him.

“Me?” the diplomat protested, his voice making him sound much more sober than his body actually was. “Why do you hate me?”

The agent leaned in close and poked him in the chest. “Because you offered me a drink in the first place.”

Sherlock sniggered. “It’s  _ all _ Mycie’s fault!”

“All. Your. Fault,” Mark agreed, punctuating each word with another poke to Mycroft’s chest.

The older man caught his hand in a firm grip to stop him from prodding him, and Mark felt his eyes close as he tipped forward a little, his drunken mind deciding that that chest looked like a pretty comfortable spot to lean on while he closed his eyes for just one moment. 

“I think it’s time we got you to bed,” Mycroft murmured. 

Mark shook his head from side to side like a child. “No, comfy here.”

There was a shuffling sound and then he felt soft curls brush against his cheek as Sherlock cushioned his head on his brother’s chest as well. “Mycie makes a lovely pillow,” the genius agreed.

“Mmmm, he does. You’re lucky, Sher.”

Sherlock hummed in agreement. “Yes I am.”

“As comfortable as you both are, it’s not the best for my back,” Mycroft told the pair. “Let’s go to bed and you can both cuddle me to your heart’s content.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Mark said, yawning widely. “I’ll keep to my side of the bed.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock told him, reaching over and taking his other hand. “You’re always welcome to cuddle with us.”

“Yes, you’ve snogged both of us now,” Mycroft told him, “so a cuddle isn’t crossing any lines.”

The two younger men began giggling together. “Oh, you should have seen your face, Mycie,” Sherlock snorted. “You didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t like I was expecting it.”   
“I really am sorry,” Mark apologised again. “I just wanted to make a point.”

“Was it ‘Mycie is so hot that even straight men can’t keep their hands off him’?” Sherlock teased.

“Totally. You discovered my secret, Sher - you’re both so hot that you’ve turned me.”

“Have you never been curious about what it’s like to be with a man?” the detective asked, somewhat seriously.

Mark shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I dunno. I mean, everyone thinks about it every now and then, don’t they? Wonder what it’s like, if it’s good enough to try.”

“But you never have?” Mycroft asked, still holding Mark’s hand but now his thumb was stroking over his knuckles.

“No, not yet.”

“Yet?” Sherlock asked. “So it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility?”

“I never say never, Sher. I’ve just never found a single guy I feel enough attraction for to give it a go. To be honest, for most of my life I’d never even looked at a bloke twice.”

The brothers exchanged a glance. “It sounds like that’s changed,” Mycroft noted.

Mark could feel his cheeks flushing and fought the urge to bury his face in Mycroft’s chest. “Yes, well, as I said, I’ve never found a  _ single _ guy I’m attracted to.” He knew it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant and unfortunately he was talking to  _ two _ of them. That seemed to be the issue on the whole. His entire life he had almost always been attracted to intelligence. At first sight he appreciated beauty as much as the next person but the attraction faded rapidly if he discovered that they didn’t have anything between their ears. The Holmes brothers were the smartest people he had ever met, but they were also witty, funny, and loyal. He valued the friendship he had with them, but he had to admit, despite his assertions to the contrary, he  _ did _ find them attractive. Who wouldn’t? He’d been quite happy to ignore that little epiphany, disregard it as a purely factual discovery, something to note and then file away, but then he’d gone and gotten bloody drunk with the brothers. Hello lowered inhibitions, let’s let the truth out to play.

Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged another lengthy look, almost seeming to have an entire conversation with simple facial expressions. It was fascinating to watch until the point where they both turned their focus to Mark and he suddenly felt like a mouse being scrutinised by two hawks. “Hypothetically,” Sherlock began, “what if two  _ taken _ men were happy to let you experiment with them?”

“No strings attached,” Mycroft added. “No messy emotions, no commitments - just simple participation in a one off situation.”

“Just two men helping a friend with a little self discovery,” the curly haired genius said.

“Just providing a safe place for a dear friend to see what it’s all about,” Mycroft remarked.

The young agent swallowed hard. “Uh, well, I guess -  _ hypothetically _ \- I could be up for that. Just to try it once, to see what the fuss is all about.”

“It appears,” the diplomat said, brushing a kiss to Sherlock’s temple and then turning to do the same to Mark’s, “that we should  _ definitely _ head to bed.”

They all climbed to their feet, Mark finding that he was a little wobbly but also slightly giddy with nervous anticipation. This was something he had never really thought about doing with the brothers, even once he realised he was attracted to them but now that it was actually happening, he was rather excited.

The trio made their way upstairs, trying to be quiet but in reality probably making more noise than stampeding rhinos. Mark knew from in depth experience that drunk people were rarely as quiet as they tried to be. They made it to the bedroom without waking anyone else which counted as a win and then they were standing before the bed and his nerves really set in. Mark fidgeted shyly, unable to meet either of his friend’s eyes, unsure of what he should be doing.

“How about you just watch for now?” Mycroft suggested, seeing straight to the heart of his discomfort. “You can join in whenever you feel you’re ready.”

Nodding, the young agent settled himself down on the sole chair in the room, more than happy with that idea. He’d seen the two geniuses kiss before but nothing more and he was eager to see them together in a more intimate setting. The older man pulled his brother close, cupping his face and kissing him gently. Sherlock moaned softly, his arms winding around Mycroft’s waist. The kiss lingered, both men taking their time in just enjoying the moment to be so close without judgement. The absolute devotion they had for one another shone through so clearly and Mark felt touched that they were willing to include him in that, however briefly. He’d had a couple of threesomes before, but it had always been with random women that he’d met and then never seen again. There had been no emotion other than lust involved which had made it all rather meaningless and temporary. Seeing the love Mycroft and Sherlock had for each other in every touch, caress, and kiss immediately made the situation feel more intimate, more  _ real _ . 

Soon the two lovers began to undress, a lazy revealing of skin which they peppered with kisses, hands lingering here and there. It was the moment of truth for Mark - as beautiful as he found the two men, how much of that was simple respect, admiration, and friendship? Would his body react to their masculine forms? Or would it lay dormant, expecting the swell of breasts and the curve of womanly hips? Sherlock had twisted to the side to kick off his trousers and when he turned back, his pert bottom was fully on display, Mycroft’s hands immediately taking hold of the cheeks and squeezing them rhythmically. It appeared that a bottom was a bottom and Sherlock’s arse was a fine specimen indeed. As he watched the firm flesh being kneaded by strong fingers, Mark felt his cock begin to plump out and he felt a curious jolt of relief mixed with confusion. As much as he’d always been absolutely certain that he was straight, his reaction now showed that perhaps he’d been wrong this entire time. But he’d never been attracted to any other men before...so perhaps it  _ was _ just the brothers. He’d heard his sister mention this before...what had she called it? Pansexual? Or perhaps he  _ was _ straight with the odd bout of Holmesexuality thrown into the mix? 

Shrugging off his philosophical monologue, Mark concentrated on the show before him. Sherlock had dropped to his knees and was kissing up and down Mycroft’s thighs, teasing his brother by moving his lips to mere millimetres from his cock and then moving away again. Mycroft made a small sound of displeasure when he did it once again and moved his hips, batting gently at his brother’s cheek with his erection. “Patience, dear,” Sherlock chided.

“Need you,” Mycroft whimpered, a needy sound that Mark had never thought he’d hear from his boss. It went directly to his cock and he found himself rock hard in his jeans. He rubbed his hand over his crotch absently as he watched the curly haired detective take pity on his lover and lick a stripe up his shaft. 

Mycroft’s head tipped back as Sherlock sucked the head of the cock into his mouth and one hand fondled his balls, and Mark’s eyes were drawn to his long, pale throat, noticing his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He found his hand reaching out subconsciously and Sherlock pulled back and smiled at him. “It’s okay to touch,” he assured him. 

Mark stood from the chair and shuffled over, standing next to Mycroft as his brother began to suck him once more. The young agent met the diplomat’s gaze and then suddenly he was kissing him. It was so different to the kiss they’d shared earlier that day - instead of being a theatrical display to upset the bigoted old Myrtice, it was full of passion and excitement. Mark licked his way into Mycroft’s mouth, his tongue darting against his companion’s. He felt a hand on his hip and he reached down and squeezed it. Sherlock took it as permission and dipped his hand up and under Mark’s shirt, stroking over the warm skin of his stomach. He let his own hand wander up Mycroft’s lithe form and he cupped his neck, scratching lightly at the short hairs at his nape. Mycroft gasped, whether from that touch or from whatever Sherlock’s talented tongue was doing, and pressed himself closer to Mark. The diplomat’s hands reached between them and began to undo the buttons on Mark’s shirt, earning him an approving grunt from the kneeling detective. Soon the garment was being pushed off his shoulders and the brothers went to town, exploring the lean planes of Mark’s chest and back. 

Sherlock let his brother’s cock slide from his mouth and he turned, deftly undoing the button on his friend’s jeans before tugging them down over his slim hips. It was Mark’s turn to gasp as that hot mouth enveloped his own cock and he felt Mycroft smirk against his lips. “He’s  _ very _ good at that, isn’t he?” he murmured.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Mark stuttered, resisting the urge to thrust into that welcoming mouth. A moment later Sherlock took him even deeper and Mark’s eyes rolled back in bliss. He had thought he’d had stellar blowjobs before but this surpassed all of them. He wasn’t sure if the genius was just a natural at it or if this was what it was like being blown by a man. Did having a penis of your own make you better at giving head, because you knew what it felt like? He felt his cock slip through the tight opening of Sherlock’s throat and his entire mind went blank as he was overcome by the sensation. 

Mycroft started to kiss all over Mark’s throat and chest, his nimble fingers traveling in teasing circles around his nipples before flicking them gently. Sherlock had grabbed hold of his arse and was pulling his pelvis closer, almost as if he was devouring him whole. Sparks seemed to explode behind the agent’s closed lids as the brother’s worked him like he worked his lute. Just as he felt his balls tighten against him, signalling he was close to coming, Sherlock gave one last bob of his head and then pulled away, eliciting a whimper from Mark. 

“Shhh,” Mycroft consoled him, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “We haven’t finished with you yet, but we thought you might like to fuck that lovely arse of his.”

Mark hadn’t really spared a lot of thought for exactly what they’d get up to but he was still surprised that they would allow that. Blowjobs and masturbating each other was where he’d thought they’d draw the line but it appeared that the brothers were willing to go all the way with him. He watched with wide eyes as Sherlock climbed up onto the bed, perching on all fours before looking enticingly over his shoulder. “Mycie, why don’t you help get us ready?” he purred.

Mycroft took Mark’s hand and guided him onto the bed before ducking over to his suitcase and pulling some items out of the side pocket. The agent looked at him dumbly for a moment as he recognised the foil wrapper. “You carry condoms?” he asked.

“They’re handy for when we don’t want to mess up Mummy’s sheets,” the diplomat told him, dropping the unopened wrapper onto the bed and squeezing some lube onto his fingers. He then reached over and spread a generous measure over Sherlock’s entrance, one of his long fingers slipping inside as he did so. Mark watched in fascination as the digit disappeared into the inviting hole, and then eagerly swallowed a second as well.

“Mycie,” Sherlock moaned, “don’t make me wait, I don’t need that.”

“Hush, brother mine,” the older man said. “This isn’t all about you.” He then proceeded to finger fuck Sherlock’s arse, and still Mark couldn’t look away, his hand finding his leaking erection and beginning to stroke it. After a few minutes of Sherlock’s increasing whimpering, Mycroft eventually removed his fingers and wiped his hand on a cloth he’d brought over with the lube and condoms. He then tore open the condom wrapper and deftly rolled it onto Mark’s cock and added more lube to the tip of it. The young agent shuddered as those fingers circled the head of his prick but went willingly when the older man urged him to kneel up behind the detective. 

“Finally,” Sherlock sighed as Mark pushed his hips against his entrance. There was resistance but then the head of his cock slipped inside and Mark bit his lip to stop from crying out. He had never felt anything so intense before in his life and he felt like his whole length was being slowly sucked further inside. It was vastly different to sex with a woman - much, much hotter, and so tight, but smooth and not as textured. Sherlock pushed himself backwards and Mark’s cock slid the rest of the way in, his hands gripping onto those slim hips for dear life as his friend began to fuck himself with enthusiasm. 

Mycroft shuffled around on the bed until he was in front of Sherlock and held out his cock for his brother to take. The younger man opened his mouth happily, still rocking back onto Mark’s cock, only to then move forward and swallow his brother’s cock all the way down. The only noise in the room was the slap of flesh on flesh and the soft panting of their breathing, every now and then punctuated by a quiet cry or low moan. It was Mycroft who came first, unable to hold back as Sherlock’s devilish tongue worked him thoroughly. Once the curly haired genius had licked his brother clean, Mark urged Sherlock to sit up on his heels and lean back against him. Once he was in place, he reached around and took hold of another man’s erection for the very first time. The hot, silky flesh felt so similar but at the same time, so different to his own and he could only hope that he could find the rhythm that his friend enjoyed. He began to stroke Sherlock’s cock, matching the thrust of his hips, and Mycroft kissed Sherlock deeply, one of his hands dropping down to cover Mark’s so they could work him together. The diplomat squeezed his hand tighter, and increased the pace, subtly teaching Mark how Sherlock liked it. He picked it up quickly because soon Sherlock was whimpering against his brother’s lips, his whole body shuddering as he covered their hands in hot splashes of cum. 

Mark wasn’t prepared for the feeling of muscles contracting so strongly around his cock. He’d experienced several times the feeling of a vagina squeezing around him whilst buried inside but this was much more intense. It was so tight to begin with but then as the muscles constricted almost painfully around him it almost felt like his cock was being held in the grip of an anaconda. Pleasure rushed over him and his cock twtched, spilling into the condom, and he bit down on Sherlock’s shoulder so he didn’t scream. 

The trio took a moment to recover, kneeling on the bed, arms wrapped around each other but then it became too uncomfortable to remain in that position. Mark gripped the base of his cock, keeping the condom in place as he withdrew from Sherlock’s arse and he accepted the tissue Mycroft offered him with a smile. He wiped himself down and then they all got dressed into pyjamas and crawled into bed.

“So,” Sherlock asked as Mark turned off the lamp, plunging them into darkness, “what did you think.”

“It was,” Mark began, “one of the most intense and amazing experiences of my life. Thank you so much for allowing me to share that with you both.”

Mycroft pulled him close and he happily snuggled up to him, feeling Sherlock do the same. “We’re so happy you enjoyed it.”

“Still consider yourself straight?” the detective enquired, asking the hard questions like usual.

Mark sighed. “I don’t know, Sher. As much as I enjoyed it, I think it was likely because it was with the both of you, not because you’re both men.”

“Sherlock, let him process it,” Mycroft said quietly. “Let’s all just get some sleep so we can be human enough to face the world in the morning.”

“Just one more question,” Sherlock begged, his fingers reaching out and finding Mark’s face in the dark. “You won’t regret this come morning, will you? I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“Oh, Sher,” Mark said, twisting his face so he could press a kiss to Sherlock’s fingers. “You’ll never lose me as a friend and I will  _ never  _ regret getting to experience this with you.”

He swore he could see the genius smile through the gloom. “Excellent. Goodnight, Mark.”

“Night, Sher. Night, Mycroft.” Snuggling in closer to the arms wrapped around him, Mark closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him.

  
  
  



End file.
